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elsanna-secret-santa · 4 years

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Strangers

Happy Christmas @backupmakeshiftlifeinwaiting <3 I hope this is as angsty and as incestuous as you wanted ^^;

----

Elsa ascends the stairs one at a time. Her toes drag along the surface, catching each and every edge as she continues, on and on. The clouds rumble, swollen and bruised, and she turns her gaze heavenward just as the first few raindrops splash on her cheeks.

It doesn't succeed in hurrying her along; there's no desperation to be home, not anymore, not now there's no one left. The only sign is a blossoming tendril, way down the bottom of her heart, that sighs a tiny little sigh as she closes the door behind her and locks the world away.

Olaf comes running out as soon as he hears the sound, the bell on his collar ringing merrily, and Elsa allows herself a smile.

"Hey, buddy," she says. The words are absorbed by the carpet and furniture, as though the very idea of sound is abhorrent to the space. Perhaps it is. Kris tells her she's silly – in the kind, older-brother way he says these things – for thinking like that. Her therapist agrees, though she's a lot more kind and tactful about it. She's getting better, really. Lets herself go out and have a life, even though Mum and Dad can't. Not anymore.

Christmas is a few days away, and she can't bear to look in the closet of half-wrapped gifts. Can't bear to pull out the tree, or wander along the streets and appreciate the lights. She should be finding her swimsuit and stockpiling the Victoria Bitter, not... this.

Blinking, she stands up just as a crack of thunder echoes through the space. The walls seem to shake with their displeasure, and Elsa sets about finding some food for the cat, if not for herself.

There's one lonely little tin of cat food at the bottom of the cupboard, tucked way way way at the back. Olaf rubs his face on hers, pleased she's popped down to the floor to hang with him, and Elsa ends up spending a few minutes there, head half-tuck in the cupboard with the cat getting in the way in the best possible way.

And then someone knocks at the door, loud and urgent and she jumps so hard she hits the underside of the shelf above her.

"Ow..." Elsa mumbles to herself, spending a solid few seconds glaring at the offending piece of wood. The knocking comes once again – shave and a haircut, some odd, useless piece of trivia reminds her – and she stumbles up from the floor and towards the door.

There's another peal of lightning, and Elsa can hear the rain thrumming. Who's out doing house calls in this weather? When she opens the door, she's greeted to the sight of a girl, no older than twenty, who is positively drenched and shivering. She's got a large suitcase with her, though it's tucked in as close to the walls as possible.

They look at each other for a moment.

"Um."

"S-Sorry," the girl starts. She brushes a sodden clump of hair out of her eyes. They're a colour so familiar that Elsa's breath catches, though she can't quite place it. Not yet. "This is number thirteen, right? I'm um, I was told this was the place."

Mute, Elsa nods. "Told by whom?" It's still pouring out, and at this point it's actually impossible for the girl to get more drenched. A chill breeze blows, sending some rain towards Elsa, but that isn't why she crosses her arms, or clenches her fists where they rest on her biceps.

"Agdar Arendelle," the girls says blithely. Elsa sucks in a breath and tries not to let it show. "He was supposed to pick me up from the airport, but there wasn't any response when I rang. Is he... not home?"

"N-Not home? Not home?" Elsa repeats. Her face is impassive, neutral; even her voice, despite the emphasis, is relatively monotone. On the inside, though, she's awhirl with emotion; confusion, grief, even some anger. "He's gone."

The silence from the other girl is deathly; cold and frigid. It's so easily contrasted with the fury of the storm behind her.

"G-Gone? Like—"

"Yes." Elsa doesn't need to hear that word. Doesn't want to. She sighs. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you," she says. It's clear this other girl was expecting something entirely different. "How did you know my dad?"

Elsa hears a sniffle, and it's enough to have her own eyes dampening as she's reminded, again, the hole left behind.

"D-Dad? I... w-when did it happen?"

"A few weeks ago." Fifteen days ago, to be precise. Swallowing the now-familiar lump of grief before it has a chance to take root, Elsa's grateful that the girl doesn't interrupt. A crack of thunder brings her back into the moment and she also realises that she has no idea who this woman is, or why she's come. "Look, I don't know who you are, but it's Christmas and I'm really... not in the mood for some far-off acquaintance who's just passing through town. I'm sure he would have appreciated the sentiment. Good-night."

"Wait!" The girl lunges forward, her foot catching in the door. "Agdar paid for my flight here!" she says. Elsa's struck immobile by the sudden closeness, and the girl's eyes fill up her vision with that same familiar colour. Now, though, it's interspersed with the dotting of freckles on her nose and cheeks, the coppery shine to her hair. "I– I'm Anna. And Agdar is... was my father."

Elsa's mouth runs dry. Her eyes roam over the features of the girl – of Anna – and now that she has the answer, there's no denying it. The same eyes, the same hair colour. Even the same strong jaw, high cheekbones – though they're hidden behind the roundness of youth.

Turning on her heel, Elsa moves back into the living room. She hears Anna follow, shutting the door behind her. Olaf, the traitor, readily abandons his quest for food and runs up to the strange new person, mewling hopelessly.

"I'm really sorry," Anna says gently. "I thought... I didn't realise it wasn't just him. I would have thought he would have said something."

"Clearly, he kept his secrets," Elsa says. She can't keep the bitterness from her tone, somehow worse for not looking at Anna.

Oh God, does this mean she has a sister?

No. No, they may be by blood – and only partially, at that – but sisterhood implies family. That isn't what this is.

Elsa doesn't have any family anymore.

"Maybe you should go back home," she suggests. "He's not here." Needing to do something, she returns to the kitchen and finally pulls the can of cat food from the back of the cupboard. The jingling bell of Olaf's collar brings inappropriate cheer to the small space.

"My return flight isn't until after Christmas," comes the small response. "I can- I was going to stay here. B-but I'm sure I can find an Airbnb or something."

When Elsa turns back, cat finally sated, she sees Anna's gaze turned to the floor.A pang thrums in her chest, just once. Her father is gone, but a piece of him remains. So, sighing, she moves towards the centre of the room. At a loss for what to say, she grabs onto the first solid thought that runs through her mind.

"Why don't you have a shower and get dry? We can talk afterwards."

----

It takes Elsa the length of a phone call to the local Chinese place to make up her mind.

Anna... can stay here.

It would be nice, not being alone over Christmas. Plus, it's only for a week, right? That's either enough time to hate her and be grateful she's gone, or like her and want to stay in contact afterwards.

She spends a solid half-hour in the shower, and Elsa's not really surprised to hear her crying, sniffling under the stream. It's enough to set her off, chest beating painfully as water tracks silently down her cheeks. She's learned to be strong, even in her grief. Silent, so no one might find out how it hurts. She wonders, briefly, if Anna was mourning his death, or the death of something more abstract.

The death of her expectations; her hopes and dreams of the relationship and history she might have shared with him.

Of course, when she reappears, there's no evidence of that. She's dressed in warm pyjamas, complete with a pair of well-worn slippers and a fluffy robe. The food arrives and they sit down at the table and it's definitely a little weird and awkward.

Who are they to each other? What might they become?

They eat in relative silence; Anna picks the peas out, a habit their father also had. Elsa has to bite her lip, but Anna doesn't notice. It isn't a quirk she would. It isn't until they finish – over half the order remaining for leftovers – that either of them actually speak.

"I feel like we should... talk," Anna says. "I'm sure you have questions."

She's still at the table – Elsa has stood to put the food in the fridge – but it's too uncomfortable to return. So, Elsa suggests the living room. Anna will probably sleep here; they don't have a spare bedroom, and the master room... just no.

"What do you know?" Elsa asks once they're seated. "What do you know about my- about our dad?"

Anna shrugs. She pulls a leg up, tucking it so her knee is under her chin. "I was adopted. When I turned eighteen in July, the first thing I did was get the records unsealed. My um, my mum passed away in childbirth. I don't think Agdar even knew about me."

That piques Elsa's interest, and she leans forward. "What makes you say that?"

Anna gives a wan smile. "When I finally tracked him down, the first thing he did was ask for a paternity test."

"And?"

"Conclusive."

Nodding, Elsa leans back. How long had he known? Had her mother known? Surely – Anna had been planning on spending the Christmas season with them!

When... when were they going to tell her?

She opens her mouth to ask something else when Anna interrupts her with a yawn. It doesn't stop her from asking a question, though it does change which one.

"Where did you fly in from?" It had been close to six when she'd rocked up on the doorstep, and it was definitely getting late. Anna smiles and shrugs again.

"Perth to the Gold Coast. I had to catch the train up, otherwise I would have beaten the storm. I guess it was the cheapest option, but hey, I wasn't paying."

It makes Elsa huff out a breath of laughter, which only makes Anna's smile widen, and there's something so warm and comforting about it. The whole situation is only as weird as they're willing to let it be, it seems.

"Perhaps we should get some rest. I... wasn't really planning on doing anything for Christmas, but I suppose I'll have to brave the shops to get some food for Olaf. We could... do something, too. If you'd like."

"I would. And, um... weird question, but..." Anna trails off, and Elsa tilts her head. "You never told me your name."

"O-oh! Um. It's Elisabeth, but everyone calls me Elsa."

"It's a beautiful name. And thank you, for letting me stay."

It's really the least she could do, but Elsa isn't going to say that. She just smiles and nods and thanks Anna, and then gets some spare pillows and linens from the closet.

Tomorrow will be weird, shopping with the sister she didn't know she had... but Elsa's fairly certain it'll make the holiday season better.

It can't really get much worse.

----

Anna's here on a holiday, and it is Christmas. Elsa should try and make it a good one, right?

It would be easier if she didn't have work – one last day because it's Christmas Eve eve – but until last night (or perhaps even just this morning) Elsa had been keen on work. Work meant that she wasn't at home, moping or dwelling.

But now... now it's different.

She gets up at the usual time and leaves a note for Anna because it's clear the girl is exhausted and also perhaps just isn't as early a riser as Elsa. Her leg is dangling off the couch, and the sun has already warmed the world enough that Anna has a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

I have to go to work, but I finish at three. There's a spare key on top of the fridge if you'd like to go out and explore. Also, my phone number. Just in case.

She gets a text at about ten from an unknown number. Clearly, it's Anna. Goodness, she uses a lot of emojis.

Heya! :) I didn't go out but did you wanna go shopping later? New town and all, I'd rather you show me around ^^;

A second message comes a few minutes later.

But if not, that's all g :) I'm also pretty happy to explore. Just lmk what you think! :)

Elsa smiles a tiny little smile and puts her phone away after sending back a quick feel free to explore, but we can go out later too. The shops will be open late for the shoppers desperate to find the last-minute gift for the forgotten aunt or cousin.

The thought has her furrowing her brows briefly. Will she and Anna be getting presents? Surely not – she hasn't even set up the tree, and has no intention of doing so.

Elsa spends the rest of the day wondering what Anna's doing, and also dreading having to go home and see her. She doesn't know how to deal with this, not at the fundamental level. She barely has friends – how is she supposed to have a sister? Is she supposed to?

Maybe she should have let Anna get an Airbnb. Why hadn't she?

The answer is fairly simple.

Her dad... had wanted them to meet. And yeah, he should have said something, but that was sort of irrelevant in the face of the fact that he'd bought Anna a ticket and invited her to stay with them for the holiday. The least Elsa can do is honour that.

There's no more correspondence with Anna, and Elsa doesn't detour to the shops for dinner supplies like she normally does. They can pick up Olaf's food when they go out. Anna's waiting for her outside – she's pulled one of the dining room chairs out and is sitting on the landing with Olaf, dozing in the sun. The storm had ceased that morning, and by now it's all but dissipated.

"Hey," Elsa says, announcing her arrival. Anna opens her eyes and smiles bright. "What are you doing out here?"

"Enjoying the sun," Anna says simply. "Also, I wanted to see you when you got back." That's... odd. Elsa's mouth opens a little in surprise.

"You did?"

"Yeah. I um. Well, I wanted to see you, and also... I wanted to warn you?"

Okay, now she's confused. Why is it that Anna keeps making her confused? Surely she's over that by now? "Warn me? About what?"

"Well. I um. I'm completely useless before I have my morning coffee because... well, who isn't. So I got up and I went to make a coffee. The thing is, I'm really clumsy, right? And I don't have a cat. So, I forgot about Olaf, who is really quiet, even with the bell. He hears me, comes running over just as I find your mugs."

Elsa's listening, but god Anna tells long stories when she just needs to relay the information in a short one. "My mugs?"

Nodding, Anna sits up a little straighter. "Yeah. So I have your mugs – just one of the normal ones, the solid blue colour? Because I know I'm really clumsy. Anyway, I'm holding it and heading towards the cupboard to have a look for some of the freeze-dried stuff, and there's a little ringing noise coming from behind me. So, I turn around and uh. Sort of step on Olaf. Who yowls and skitters away and I fall over and then drop the mug." Anna's mouth tightens in a line and she gives a grimace. Elsa sighs because she feels a little breathless, even though she wasn't even the one telling the story.

"Okay. And you were warning me because you couldn't find the vacuum cleaner, and you're out here with Olaf so no one gets glass in their feet?"

Anna opens her mouth, inhales, and says, "Ah no. No, that's not it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So, I break the mug, and Olaf's run of but at least he doesn't have shards in his little paws. I go searching for the vacuum cleaner and I find it at the back of the cleaning closet, which is probably where it should be. So I clean up and Olaf hates the vacuum cleaner so I put it away. And then I sort of see something at the back of the closet." She stands up. "And I wanted to let you know before you went inside so that maybe you don't um. Yell at me."

Once more, Elsa sighs. "I'm not going to yell at you for being curious," she says. "It was an accident. You couldn't help that." Shooting a tight smile, Elsa turns to open the door. Anna jumps to her feet, but she's already halfway through the threshold when she kind of just. Stops.

Olaf runs ahead and immediately attacks the Christmas tree, decorated with all the tinsel and baubles it could ever want, standing proud and alight in the corner. Elsa's jaw drops as she absorbs... everything. The entire apartment looks like it's been thrown up on by a thousand elves. There's lights set up like bunting across the top of the walls, and a Christmas blanket on the sofa. There's stockings hung up on one wall – reversed, hiding the names, though Elsa's heart thuds dully in her chest – and even a wreath! This would have been every single Christmas ornament that that she owned.

"Hey! Don't attack that!" Anna pushes past her, scolding Olaf. The cat pauses only long enough to look their way before knocking a bauble off a low-hanging branch. "Oi!" He scampers off, and Anna turns back to where Elsa remains standing. "Do you like... Elsa?"

Elsa looks at Anna, and it's only then that she realises she's crying. She sucks in a breath that rattles in her chest, and she doesn't move when Anna approaches her.

She does like it. But she hates it, too, just like she likes and hates Anna – for the same reasons, even!

It's a reminder of everything she's lost. The things she no longer has.

Anna doesn't hesitate when she wraps her arms around Elsa, tugging her inside just enough that the door closes behind them. Elsa's hands clench against Anna's back, a pathetic attempt at reciprocating the warm hug currently engulfing her. Anna doesn't shush her as she cries. She just holds her until Elsa's done, limp and boneless and so exhausted, head resting on Anna's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she finally says. With the way they're pressed together, it's impossible not to feel howAnna swallows, hard, at the apology.

"I'm sorry, Elsa," she responds, voice impossibly soft. Soft and kind, and Elsa kind of just wants to melt into it. "I can't possibly know how this feels for you," she continues, "and I got so caught up in... in celebrating Christmas with my sister that I forgot how painful this would be for you."

Sniffling, Elsa shakes her head. Her mind goes back to her earlier thought about it being Christmas, and a holiday for Anna, before jumping back to a more recent one. "I... like it," she whispers. "I'm just s-sad..."

Anna doesn't tell her that it's okay if she's sad. She doesn't tell her to let it out, or hold it back. And Elsa wishes that Anna was sad, too – a thought that sucker-punches her in the gut – because she doesn't want to go through this alone.

"I want to make you happy, Elsa. And if that means taking all this down, I'm more than willing."

"We used to put it all together as a family," Elsa admits, sniffling one last time before lifting her head. "S-so it just... reminds me of what I'm missing."

Smiling gently, Anna lifts her hands and, using the pads of her thumbs, wipes away the tear tracks on Elsa's cheeks. "I'm sorry—"

"But maybe... maybe it could remind me of what I've gained, too?" Then, she steps back and looks at the decorations. "But, we'll need to get a stocking for you."

----

Amazingly, the shops still have enough stockings and glitter glue to satisfy both women. Also amazingly, they have no spare cat food to go around, so Elsa ends up buying some more biscuits and just hoping that Olaf will be content.

Which, he'll have to be because there's nothing else.

Anna suggests getting some supplies to make Christmas food – "Like brandy custard and jelly and rum balls!" she had said. Elsa had narrowed her eyes, but hell. It's Christmas.

They grab a Woolies chicken – far superior to Coles – and some pasta salad and coleslaw. Anna gets a tin of chocolate wafer sticks, and a box of Lindt Lindor Milk Chocolate because they're half price and she likes the way they melt in her mouth, apparently. She does also grab some bread rolls and cold cuts and they get half a kilo of prawns just because it's traditional (even though half that is just shell that they'll have to throw out).

As cliché as it seems... it actually really is starting to feel a lot like Christmas.

It's going to be different to usual, but perhaps that's a good thing.

For good measure, they also get some bacon and eggs and fresh bread for breakfast. Elsa adds a bag of hash browns, and it's frankly the most excited she's been about food since the funeral. Excited enough that she doesn't even take advantage of the sleep in the next morning, just gets up and starts cooking. Anna wakes up just as she's turning the eggs, wandering into the kitchen with her tweety bird pyjamas and bird-nest hair.

"Mmm that smells good," she says. "I can't even remember the last time someone made me breakfast." There's an easy smile on her face – one Elsa mimics easily.

"Neither. I can barely remember the last time I made anyone breakfast." Anna takes a seat along the bench, head resting in her hands as she leans forward.

"Oh? No boyfriends, or worthy one-night stands?"

Snorting, Elsa leaves the eggs and moves to the toaster instead. "No boyfriends," she says. "And er, I've never really been a 'one-night stand' kind of person."

"Shame," Anna says. "You're pretty hot." Elsa sputters, head jerking up while Anna simply shrugs. "What? I'd try and pick you up if I saw you in a club!" she defends, as though that is a defence.

"We're sisters, Anna," Elsa says, and Anna just shrugs again.

"I mean before, you ding-dong."

Exhaling through her nose, Elsa tries to focus on the breakfast. "What about you, then?" she asks. "Anyone at home?"

"Free as a bird, currently," Anna tells her. "Though I am someone who's a 'one-night stand' kinda person."

Elsa doesn't respond for a few moments. Instead, she goes back to the bacon, moving it around so it doesn't get too stuck to the pan. "What's it like?" she asks finally. She misses the way Anna shrugs, mostly because she's trying her best not to focus too hard on anything but the food.

"One-night stands? Fun, I guess. I mean, the actual sex can be pretty eh, but the lack of strings makes it a little easier, I think. Hey, that's something we could do!" Elsa chokes and Anna pushes on. "Go out to a club and find you someone!"

"Yeah, no," Elsa says once she recovers. Anna hums and nods.

"Fair enough. Then I'd also have to find some fun, and I'd much rather spend my holiday with you anyway."

Elsa finds her mouth suddenly dry, for reasons she can't quite place. The toast pops, and breakfast is the perfect distraction.

----

Anna sits at the kitchen bench, putting her stocking together, while Elsa starts baking. Not that they need much, just the two of them, but that's not really the point of this. Olaf wanders in and ends up sitting in the sun on the kitchen window, watching the undertakings. The rum balls are rolled, the chicken is pulled apart, and the jelly is thrown into the fridge to set.

And then...

Elsa has no idea what to do. They could go out exploring, but it's going to be a mad rush and she has difficulty dealing with all those people on a good day, let alone while stressed and sad at Christmas.

"We could just stay in and watch movies," Anna suggests. "I'm sure Stan has some good Christmas flicks, and you have aircon."

That actually doesn't sound like a bad idea. Honestly, probably what Elsa was going to do anyway, but now she doesn't have to do it alone.

She puts the AC on and tries not to sit too close to Anna while the other girl finds some flicks.

"I know it's Christmas, but I really just wanna watch Muriel's Wedding," she admits. Elsa shrugs with a smile.

"I can't listen to ABBA without thinking of that film. Why not? We can always watch Love Actually later, right?"

"Ooh, can we?"

The obvious excitement in Anna's voice makes Elsa chuckle. "Sure. Isn't it like, required viewing?"

"It is for me!"

Of course, Elsa forgets the obvious; Anna's excited to be here at Christmas, so her attempts at distance are fundamentally futile. Anna wants to be close, and so she sits close – without the AC, it'd be too hot. With it, it's just... comfortable. She's fidgety, legs crossed on the sofa, fingers scratching at her legs, rubbing the fabric of the couch, cracking her knuckles, stretching.

Dad had been like that, too. Outwardly calm and composed, except for the little fidgets that would give him away.

She'd also forgotten another important thing: Muriel's Wedding definitely earns its M15+ rating, even for a 1994 flick. The entire sequence at the nightclub reminds her of the conversation she'd had with Anna, only that morning; it seems it reminds Anna, too, because once the scene is over, Anna leans over and says, "Two kinds of people in the world: Muriels and Rhondas."

Elsa gives her a tight smile. "And which one are you?"

Without even looking at Elsa, Anna manages to send a smirk that has Elsa's stomach rolling. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she says, and Elsa has to take a moment to swallow the suddenly dry sensation in her mouth. She tries to find something to say, but Anna shushes her barely a second later. "This is my favourite part, shh."

Elsa lifts an eyebrow but settles back into her seat. She likes the scene, too, but Anna's started to pick at her cuticles – she's not even looking, gaze focussed on the TV – and it's more distracting than it should be, given that she's pretty much silent as she does it.

They both tear up at the end, and when David says, "What kind of person marries someone they don't know?" Anna leans over proper to hug Elsa because they both know where the film is going.

"That's my favourite line," Anna murmurs.

They remain like that until the end of the movie. Until the final showdown with Muriel's father, and reuniting with Rhonda, and Anna squeezes just a little tighter. Then the credits roll and they don't move for a moment until Anna coughs lightly and speaks.

"I forgot she died," she says, "but I'm glad Muriel found Rhonda again."

Elsa makes a little noise of assent, though she isn't quite sure what to say so she just clears her throat and says, "So, next movie?"

The question makes Anna pull away, and the cool air rushes in to replace where she'd been. Elsa shivers, even though she's always been fairly immune to the chill.

"If... it's okay, can we do something else?" Her eyes are focused down on her lap, though they flicker up to meet Elsa's briefly. "It's fine if you don't want to, though."

"What is it?"

Sucking in a breath, Anna finally meets Elsa's gaze and holds it. "Can we... visit Dad?"

----

The cemetery isn't very busy, though there are enough people that it's clear Elsa isn't the first, last, or only person who is spending the Christmas with fewer people than preferred.

They drive up the winding driveway, towards the section her parents are buried in. Mum's plaque is significantly more weathered than Dad's, but it is also a good few years older. They're resting under the shade of a huger paper-bark, and there's a wattle nearby – Elsa can smell it.

It's a nice place to rest, she thinks, and it seems Anna agrees because she says, "This is a lovely place, Elsa." She looks at the grave. "And I'm sorry I never got to meet you in life."

Something solid grows in Elsa's throat. She can blame the bright sun for the way she's blinking, but not on the crushing vice squeezing her heart and lungs. "He would have liked you," she manages, just before her throat completely closes.

"Really?"

She can't answer, so instead Elsa just nods. They don't say anything else, just stand there marking the moment as the sun dips towards the horizon. It doesn't make it any cooler, but it does make it less intense. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she thinks about what could have been. If he'd known, all those years ago...

And, if he had been here now...

They stay a little longer, until Elsa's neck starts burning and the tears dry up. Anna offers to drive them home, but Elsa needs to focus on something, so she declines.

It's dinner time by the time they get back, though neither are very hungry. There's enough snack food anyway, and they hadn't needed lunch after the huge breakfast Elsa had cooked up. So, they move back to the couch and Anna puts on Love Actually but neither are really feeling it. Elsa's gaze keeps wandering to the tree; there are no presents below it. The stockings are empty, and suddenly that's just how Elsa feels.

It abates somewhat when Anna, just like earlier, sits close and hugs her. She's very tactile; a refreshing change, as neither Elsa nor her father had been.

And in Love Actually, there's no deaths, no tragedies. Even Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman stay together, work through their troubles. Elsa lets the predictability soothe her, and somewhere around the Christmas recital, she finally leans into Anna, too. There's a deep inhale next to her, but neither address it.

It's only when God Only Knows starts playing, Hugh Grant narrating the ending sequence, that they both choose the same moment to shift. No hovering during the end credits this time.

Anna goes to the kitchen for food; Elsa, not hungry, goes and has a shower. They swap, briefly, and then return to the living room. It's only early, but Elsa's definitely burnt and quite frankly, just exhausted. Tomorrow will be hard; she doesn't want it to ever get here, and yet she can't wait for it to be over.

"I think I need an early night," she says. Anna nods.

"It's been a long day. Good, though."

"Good?"

She nods again. "Not... happy. But I'm glad we did the things today that we did. And I want to make even more memories tomorrow. But I'll make you breakfast."

"I'm sure we'll have enough food," Elsa comments wryly. Grinning, Anna begins rearranging the pillows on the sofa.

"We sure will – but I'm still gonna make you breakfast."

"Okay, Anna," Elsa says. No harm in humouring her. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Elsa. Sweet dreams."

----

Elsa awakens, a little unexpectedly, to the smell of food.

Anna had actually done it?

A brief look to her phone tells her that it's almost 10 – even later than she usually got up, even for the holidays – and there is definitely the smell of... pancakes?

Still, she doesn't move. Anna is humming to herself in the kitchen, and Elsa should go down. Wish her a Happy Christmas and give her a hug because she didn't actually have a present.

But she doesn't. She just stays there, rolled onto her side, because she doesn't want to face today. Perhaps that was why her body had let her sleep in, just this once.

She isn't lying there for long when Anna knocks on the door. She has a smile on her face when Elsa turns to look at her, hands behind her back.

"Hey, Els," she says. "Merry Christmas. I um. I made you pancakes. I hope you like pancakes."

"I... had pancake mix?" Elsa asks, sitting up. It's easier to focus on that than anything else.

"Well, you had flour and eggs and milk. And some mango, so I made like. Caramelised mango? The pancakes aren't very sweet so I thought to make the toppings nice."

Okay, maybe Elsa's brain is a little too fuzzy, but... "You handmade me pancakes for breakfast, and fruit toppings?"

Anna nods, and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Geez, Els, a simple 'thanks' would be nice," she says with a cheeky grin. "Maybe I shouldn't give you your present after all. Cmon, the pancakes are getting cold and the ice cream is getting warm."

She leaves before Elsa can question her again – that was probably the point – and Elsa scrambles out of bed, throwing on a pair of short-shorts and a t-shirt because her brain isn't working but at least she remembers that Christmas is hot and pyjamas get sticky.

Anna's already dressed, the table properly set with cutlery and juice – which Elsa definitely did not have in the fridge – and a stack of pancakes in the middle.

She realises, when she finally starts eating, that maybe Elsa hadn't really expected Anna to be a good cook because the surprise is palpable when she takes the first bite and lets out a little noise of utter delight. When she asks about it, she gets a modest shrug.

"You can blame my ex for that. She loved pancakes with caramelised fruit, so I made it my mission to learn how to make it."

There's a lot going on in that sentence; Elsa isn't sure what to address so she just nods and say, "Well, it's really good."

And it is. There is a little bit left over, so they find some containers and put it in the fridge. It'll only last a couple of days, if that, but that's okay. There will be plenty more food anyway.

By the time that's done, and Elsa's helped Anna clean up, it's almost half-eleven. Elsa turns on Triple J for some background noise, and the AC because it's already so hot. Then, they collapse on the couch and Elsa's pretty much ready to slip into a food coma.

Or drink because fuck it, it's Christmas.

So she stands back up and says, "I'm having a drink. Would you like one?"

She's got a few options, but opts for a gin and tonic because she needs something a little lighter after the dense breakfast. Plus, there's half a bottle of Bitters that may as well be used up, too.

Anna doesn't answer, but she does follow Elsa back into the kitchen, which is basically an answer. She fixes up the most inaccurately measured G&T she's ever made, and then makes a second one for Anna.

"Cheers," she says, holding up the glass. "Happy Christmas."

Anna gently taps their drinks together and tilts her head. "Happy Christmas, Elsa."

----

They are both appropriately inebriated – tipsy, not drunk – by mid-afternoon, by which Anna decides it's time to bring out the rum balls and throw all caution to the wind. They have to switch to the actual rum at six, when the gin runs out, and then it really doesn't matter at all.

Anna's put on another Christmas movie and the radio gets turned off, but it isn't the focus as they continue their conversations most of which Elsa doesn't remember. They definitely talked about the benefits of epilators over razors, and how terrible a cat Olaf is that he can't even catch spiders. Elsa forgets the number of times Anna makes her laugh with her deadpan humour and optimism, in equal measure. The alcohol loosens her tongue and lets her talk about the things that she's tried so hard to keep buried.

It isn't as difficult, and talking to Anna seems so easy.

They end up on the floor, leaning against the couch with the Christmas lunch spread in front of them. Anna's flushed red from drinking, smiling so wide that Elsa can't help but mirror it. They've thrown on another Christmas movie – some awfully cheesy thing from Disney with Vanessa Hudgens – and both keep getting distracted by just how terrible it is.

"Pffft, that's not how you kiss," Anna says – complains – gesturing to the screen. Elsa gives her a look. A very... floaty... look.

"What? That's very definitely a kiss, Anna. Even I know that."

Snorting, Anna downs the rest of her drink and uses the empty glass to indicate the couple going to town on each other's faces on the screen. "That's awful. They're just mashing their faces together."

"That's... how you kiss."

"Ugh, you suck. If someone kisses you like that, run, Els."

Elsa sighs and turns to Anna more fully. "Fine, fine, fine," she says, tongue heavy in her mouth. "What's so bad about it? They have tongues and lips and- and that's kissing, right?" Suddenly, she doesn't sound very sure of herself, and the movie continues, forgotten, when Anna sits up and completely faces Elsa.

"No! Ew. I mean, sure, they have the parts, but where's the technique? Where's the passion? Where's the love?!"

"They're trained actors, Anna," Elsa points out, a half-formed smile on her lips because Anna's kinda cute when she's passionate and irritated. "I doubt you could do better."

"Try me."

Elsa looks at Anna, eyebrow raised. Anna stares back defiantly, and it kind of makes Elsa want to laugh – not at her. Just... in general.

"Go on then. Wow me."

Anna doesn't hesitate. With the speed in which she moves, Elsa expects something rough. Or maybe that's just her expectations of kissing in general. But Anna isn't like that. She grins when their faces are mere millimetres away and lifts a hand to Elsa's cheek because she's also closed her eyes and clearly needs some guidance.

When their lips touch, Elsa's entire world narrows to that one point of contact. Her eyes slip shut as Anna presses close, and for a moment it seems like that's all she's going to do. A peck – just like she would between her parents as a child.

But then Anna moves, her lips move, a slow and unyielding force that has Elsa responding. It's hard and soft, like waves coming to shore before pulling away and back out to sea. Their noses bump; Anna's hands move and then her body follows and suddenly Elsa finds herself being straddled.

Without thought, her hands find their way to Anna's hips, holding tight.

"C'mon, Els," Anna murmurs into her mouth. "Don't make me do all the work."

She doesn't know what she's doing, but it doesn't seem to matter. Elsa tilts her head to the side, opening her own mouth just a fraction.

And then Anna trails her teeth across Elsa's bottom lip and it doesn't matter that she doesn't know what she's doing because she's learning. Somehow, her tongue finds its way in Anna's mouth and it tastes like rum balls and alcohol and is the aircon still on because it's really... warm. Anna's body, resting atop hers, is a solid weight, comforting, and with her focus on the way Anna tastes she doesn't notice her hands begin exploring until suddenly they're tangling in Anna's hair.

"Oh God, Elsa," Anna groans, lips moving from her mouth to nip at her throat. Elsa's hands fist hard, tugging Anna's hair, and her eyes open when Anna makes another noise, teeth clipping her skin again.

They fall to the stockings, hanging on the wall, and suddenly her blood is ice in her veins.

Anna notices immediately and pulls away. Her face is flushed, but it isn't from the alcohol anymore, and as her chest heaves Elsa hates that she notices it.

You're pretty hot. I'd pick you up.

Anna's words from yesterday rattle around in Elsa's head, but not so much as her answer to them.

We're sisters, Anna.

"Oh God." Elsa chokes and tries to stand up. Anna slides off her lap, not saying anything, and when she finally climbs to her feet, Elsa becomes aware of two horrifying facts.

1. There's a thudding in her navel that just drives home the fact that making out with her own flesh and blood had... turned her on; and

2. She's nowhere near drunk enough to justify being this aroused or blame for making out with her sister in the first place.

Sucking in a breath, Elsa hugs her arms around herself and turns away. "I'm sorry," she says. "Y-you should probably go..." Biting her lip, all she can taste is Anna, and she hates it because she doesn't hate it. She hates it because this has probably ruined her for every other kiss she'll ever have, and it's ruined her because... she'd challenged Anna without thinking about it.

Of course she was going to like it. She's been enamoured with her fucking sister since the beginning.

"Elsa..."

"Please, Anna."

"Elsa, you're making this weird."

Whipping around, it takes Elsa longer to balance herself than it does to realise she shouldn't have looked back at Anna. She looks so good, and the butterflies in Elsa's stomach go absolutely mental as they flutter around. She repositions her arms over her chest because she isn't wearing a bra and this is awful. An awful idea on an awful Christmas.

She just wants to cry.

"I'm making this weird? Anna, we're sisters."

"Are we?" Anna tilts her head, and Elsa is stunned into silence. "I mean, technically, we are. Kinda. But like, we didn't even know each other existed until a few days ago. It didn't feel like I was kissing my sister. It sort of just... felt like I was making out with a friend."

"Anna..."

"And I'd do it again."

The stupid Christmas movie is playing in the background, and Elsa uses it to ground herself because- because Anna can't possibly mean that. Right?

But Anna moves forward, running a hand through her messy hair before coming to a stop only a few inches from Elsa. "I'd do it again, Els. I've really liked spending time with you, and that includes everything, not just... y'know. Making out on the floor."

Elsa doesn't know what to say to that, and maybe Anna realises she crossed a line because then she's taking a step back and giving Elsa some much-needed space. Except, now Elsa just feels cold, and her brain keeps replaying the kiss in her mind.

"But I'll leave. Get that Airbnb if you want. I'm sorry, Elsa." She shoots her a small smile that's just coated in devastation and heartbreak, and Elsa's own heart just gives a pathetic thud in her chest that she can't quite decipher.

At least, not until Anna's got her stuff and is heading for the door. She pauses to look back at Elsa and give her another smile, this one clearly supposed to be encouraging. Hopeful, like maybe they can catch up again before Anna has to return home, and it's that thought that has Elsa finally, finally finding her voice.

"W-wait," she says. And Anna does because she clearly doesn't want to leave. Elsa steps forward, one at a time. Anna's so forward; she wishes she could be like that. Uncompromisingly honest.

Perhaps she can.

"I... don't want you to go," she says. Anna bites her lip and Elsa's eyes dart to that one, simple action. "And Dad wouldn't want you to go." It sounds pathetic, and Anna barks out a brief laugh.

"It's probably better that I do," she says, turning away. She has her hand on the door when she looks back over her shoulder. "Remember when I said I was a 'one-night stand kind of girl'?" Swallowing, Elsa nods and Anna shoots her a grin that's a little sadder than it is cheeky. "This isn't one of those times."

The full weight of her words slams into Elsa, sends her reeling.

Not backward. She moves forwards, hand slamming into the door as she pushes Anna against it, lips seeking lips, heat seeking heat. She trembles, but Anna holds her together, the truth it her words palpable on Elsa's tongue. Enough that she laughs, breathless, pulling away briefly just to leave her own parting remark.

"I'm not a one-night stand kind of girl."

And then it doesn't really matter anyway.

Christmas is the season of giving, after all.

#elsanna #elsanna secret santa #secret santa 2020 #backupmakeshiftlifeinwaiting

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